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I’d say that I’m shocked to learn that things got even more dramatic after Bobbi Kristina Brown’s already very dramatic funeral, but…that would be a lie. And I’m far too bloated from all the cream-covered fruit fermenting in my stomach from yesterday’s National Raspberry Cream Pie Day festivities to be nothing less than totally honest with myself.

A “source” (Bobbi Kristina’s loudmouth aunt Leolah Brown, probably) tells TMZ that Bobby Brown’s wife Alicia Etheredge was rushed to the hospital after suffering a seizure shortly after Bobbi Kristina’s funeral in Atlanta yesterday. Alicia, who gave birth to Bobby’s baby less than a month ago, had just returned to her hotel when it happened. Alicia was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, and she was apparently able to walk when she arrived. TMZ says Bobby B was with her.

Speaking of Aunt Leolah, remember how she had to be escorted out of Bobbi Kristina’s funeral yesterday because she was acting the fool? Well, Bobbi Kristina’s cousin Meeta Brown would like you to know that Leolah Brown is “crazy.” Meeta talked to the paps after Bobbi Kristina’s funeral (you know, as one does) and spilled the T about Aunt Leolah. According to Meeta Brown’s repeated use of the word “crazy“, combined with her constantly rolling eyes and chronic “I can’t with her” face, Aunt Leolah is a mess. She also claimed that the Browns and the Houstons don’t hate each other. Yuh huh. Sure.

But back to Alicia Etheredge. It’s awful that she spent her post-funeral time in the hospital and not back in her hotel room eating snacks from the mini-fridge while watching a Flip or Flop marathon until she felt less sad (aka how I cheer up after a sad day). Especially for something as scary as a seizure. But I guess the silver lining here is that she no longer had to deal with Aunt Leolah. I don’t even know if they were staying in the same hotel, but it doesn’t matter; Aunt Leolah totally sounds like the type to find your room and bang on your door at 3am asking in a whispered yell if you have any extra towels.

I know, you’re like “What bat?“, because you’re too busy staring at that disgusting dirty drawn-on middle finger on Johnny Depp’s hand. Seriously, what is going on there. Wait – you know what? I don’t actually want to know. Sometimes it’s best not to know how the sausage is made.

Johnny Depp is still down in Australia filming Pirates of the Caribbean 47, and earlier this week he decided to drop by the Australian Bat Clinic & Wildlife Trauma Centre dressed as Jack Sparrow to feed a tiny orphaned bat named – wait for it – Jackie Sparrow. Look at lil’ Jackie Sparrow, all snuggled up in her tiny green bat blankie, drinking her bat milk, praying that a crusty chunk of whatever is trapped under Johnny Depp’s chunky silver hobo rings doesn’t wiggle loose and accidentally fall into her baby bat mouth. So cute. The ABC also has a very adorable picture of Johnny Depp’s bat looking all sleepy with a pacifier in its mouth on their Facebook page, in the event you haven’t gotten your “Awwwww” of the day yet.

Time to add another name to the already long list of people who are slowly backing away from Bill Cosby. CNN says that Spelman College in Atlanta, GA has decided to pull the William and Camille Olivia Hanks Cosby Endowed Professorship. Spelman College released a statement on Saturday announcing that the WCOHCEP, which has been suspended since December, has been “discontinued“, and that related funds have been returned to the Clara Elizabeth Jackson Carter Foundation. Sidenote: when you read WCOHCEP out loud, it totally sounds like one of Bill Cosby’s made-up gibberish words.

Bill and Spelman go back a long way. Two of Bill and Camille’s daughters, Erika and Evin, went to Spelman, and their son Ennis went to Morehouse, a college connected to Spelman. Spelman is also one of the inspirations for Hillman College, the fake college Cliff and Clair Huxtable went to on The Cosby Show and Denise Huxtable went to on A Different World.

Based on my truly rudimentary knowledge of Sweden, it is my understanding that Sweden is a magical land of easy-to-assemble furniture, wacky eye-less puppet chefs, and rivers filled with delicious red candy fishes. And today I learned it’s also the sort of place where Snoop Dogg can get arrested.

TMZ says that Snoop Dogg found himself on the receiving end of a pair of whatever the Swedish word for hand cuffs is (Google translate tells me it’s “handbojor“, which is all kinds of terrific) on Saturday after police suspected him of driving under the influence of narcotics. Snoop had just come from a show in Uppsala, Sweden, and was showing signs of being a mess on the road, so police pulled him over and took him to the police station for a drug test. He’s currently sitting in Swedish jail. However, Snoop Dogg has called bullshit on the DUI and thinks he was pulled over by the police because he’s black. Snoop documented his arrest in a series of Instagram videos, and he says in one of them that the arrest was nothing but an act of racial profiling.

A video posted by snoopdogg (@snoopdogg) on Jul 26, 2015 at 6:46am PDT

He also claims that they “didn’t find shit” during his urine test. A spokesman for the Swedish police threw a side-eye at Snoop’s claim of racial profiling and told TMZ “We don’t work like that in Sweden.”

The police tell TMZ that it will take two weeks to get Snoop’s drug test back. I don’t know how Swedish law works, but does that mean Snoop will be in Swedish jail for the next two weeks? I can’t even imagine what Swedish jail would be like. I bet they punish prisoners by forcing them to build an IKEA media center without the instructions while listening to “Waterloo” on repeat.

Living shimmer brickJennifer Lopez celebrated her 46th birthday last night at a club in the Hamptons, and she wore…whatever you’d call this. It looks sort of like a dress that was made from those tissue paper thongs they give you when you go get your snatch waxed and some factory defect sheer panel shapewear. Regardless of whatever it is, JLo is working the hell out of it. She’s serving up classy funeral stripper realness, and I love it.

JLo’s dress is hot (vaguely slutty + covered shoulders = always a hot combo), but sadly, it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming beauty that was her 45th birthday cake. Maybe that would explain JLo’s dress. Maybe when it came time to get dressed for this year’s birthday party, a vision of that exquisite buttercream nightmare flashed before her eyes and it whispered “Girl, you need to step up your game this year, because I set the bar very high.” And that’s how several pairs of black pantyhose became an dress.

And if this is what JLo wears to her 46th birthday party, I can’t wait to see what kind of next-level “I’M STILL VERY SEXY” eleganza she pulls out for her 50th. I’m sure there’s a team of stylists working on a single stretch mesh ribbon as we speak.

Here’s more of a newly 46-year-old JLo arriving to her birthday party last night with her professional…uh…boyfriend (???) Casper Smart. Also at the party was French Montana, who appeared to be wearing an ill-fitting children’s Tony Manero costume from a Party City outlet store.

When I was a kid, I used to watch this show called called Harriet’s Magic Hats, and it was about a chick who could teleport to different jobs by putting on a hat from her aunt’s magical hat trunk. Yes, you can go ahead and file this under: “WTF-level television from 1980s Canada” along with ASTAR. Harriet’s niece would always pick something boring, like a hat from a sleep apnea clinic or something, and she’d magically appear at that job. It was literally like watching a low-budget TV show about career day, but with a dangerous disregard for the laws of physics.

Anyway, when I saw these pictures of Boy George performing with Culture Club at the Greek Theater on Friday night in a variety of gorgeously ostentatious hats, it made me wish Boy George had access to Harriet’s magical hat trunk. I don’t even know what kind of jobs Boy George’s hats would transport me to, but I want to go to all of them. Although if I had to guess, I’d say most of them would lead to wherever a sexy robot drag queen showgirl from the year 2109 works. And really, what couldn’t you learn from job shadowing a sexy robotic drag queen showgirl? Exactly.

Just a helpful production note for anyone who is planning on recording a menacing video message for their enemies any time in the near future: it’s difficult to appear tough when it looks like you’re filming in front of the Home Depot garden center.

Trace Cyrus, the Cousin Eddie to Miley’s Clark Griswold (technically I think they’re both the Cousin Eddie, but just go with me on this one) recently crawled out of the shallow end of gene pool and reminded us that he’s still a thing by threatening to fight other bands. That’s right. If you’re in a band and you’ve been talking shit about Trace Cyrus’ band, he WILL kick your ass…but only if you agree to sign a lengthy waiver promising that you will not sue him.

“I wonder what a bunch of those studio lights would go for on Craigslist?”

According to People, 50 Cent’s “Whoopies, I’m too poor to pay for my sex tape lawsuit” plan didn’t work and now he is – how you say – le fucked. On top of the $5 million 50 Cent was ordered to pay to Lastonia Leviston for posting a sex tape online without her consent, a judge ordered him to pay an extra $2 million in damages on Friday. You hear that, 50 Cent’s fans? You’ve already raised $50.67; only $6,999,949.33 to go!

50 Cent’s attorney told People that they’re “disappointed” that the judge scratched out the number 5 and replaced it with a 7 on the piece of paper showing how much money he owes, and added that his client plans on filing a post-verdict motion to reduce the size of the award. His attorney also said that even though the judge told 50 to write Lastonia a check for $7 million, it will ultimately be up to the bankruptcy court to decide how much 50 Cent will pay.

If that bankruptcy judge calls 50 Cent’s bluff on his $0 bank balance and tells him to fork over $7 million to Lastonia, I hope he stresses that he is to give her seven million dollars. 50 Cent has already tried once to get out of paying Lastonia; I wouldn’t put it past him to try it again. That bankruptcy judge should make it very clear that mailing Lastonia a promotional coupon for $7 million off her next purchase of Effen vodka will not be considered payment.

Brooke Hogan, one of the many nuggets floating around in the metaphorical toilet that is Hulk Hogan’ssex tape transcript (working title: “The Hulkster is About To Make You Feel Real Uncomfortable, Bruthur“), is apparently super sad that people think her daddy is racist. I know, right? Whatever would give us that idea? It’s not like there’s reportedly a recording of Hulk Hogan growling out the n-word over and over again. Oh wait…

Brooke wants you to look past The Hulkster’s word turds and into his (probably) deeply sun-damaged heart. Shortly after Hulk admitted that, yeah, he said some offensive shit and apologized for it, Brooke wrote a poem titled “If You Knew My Father” and posted it to Facebook. So for those of you who have ever scrolled through the Dlisted archives and wondered what former famous person Brooke Hogan has been up to, you have your answer. Poetry. She also made a picture collage of Hulk Hogan shaking hands with an assortment of people, because Brooke Hogan really wants you to know her dad loves everyone.

The poem is after the cut because it’s way too many words. But also because it’s a damn MESS and you’re going to want to slam a couple shots of something hard before you try to work your way through it.

For some reason, Rihanna showed up to a recording studio in New York late last night wearing what appears to be a pair of pajamas and a cup of…probably not Sleepy Time Tea. What am I saying? As if Princess Ooh Na Na needs a reason for being in her bedtime clothes and sipping on a drink. When Rihanna leaves the house looking like a Frederick’s of Hollywood version of The Dude from The Big Lebowski, you don’t question it.

10-year-old me would be gagging over Rihanna’s silk robe and furry slippers. When I was a kid, I had a neighbor who would drink and smoke in her garage almost every night, and she’d usually do it in a silk robe and sexy slippers. I thought she was so classy. Then I got a little older, and I realized she was just a lady in her pajamas sitting on a fold-up lawn chair with her feet resting on a busted He-Man Big Wheel and drinking red wine out of a mug. Obviously, that woman is still my hero.